


Three times Peggy Blomquist saw something that wasn't there

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Gen, Mental Illness, peggy's a really tragic character okay?, spoilers for season 2 natch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5433476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the title says it all</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three times Peggy Blomquist saw something that wasn't there

Ed was sweet. He wasn't like the other fellas in 1968's senior class. They were all hands in the back of a car, wanting to inspect a girl's tonsils before her brain.

Ed was old-fashioned. He actually asked her pa whether he could take her out on a date. The elder Egner simply grunted and rolled his shoulders. Never had a high opinion of his daughter's intellect. Any woman's, come to think of it. But Ed thought to ask and took her to a malt shop instead of the drive in and held her hand in the nice bright light.

Ed was kind. He was the only boy in class who didn't call her “Peggy Eggs.” He would always look sidelong at her first, never dead-on, like he had to work up to seeing her.

Ed was...not the adventurous type, let's be honest. If a girl was looking to travel the world, Ed was not the man to have along. But he was sweet. And old-fashioned. And kind. And that was probably what Peggy needed in a husband. Not a man like her father, who only referred to her mother as “the old ball 'n chain” and never remembered her birthday. Not a man like the boys at school, who might as well have been kissing a mirror for all the attention they paid to her.

He was good. He was fine. It would work.

 

As a little girl, she would always imagine little things. Scenarios, people, anything to block out the blank white of winter. She never really stopped when she grew. No one told her to stop, probably because she had never told anyone about it.

The first time she imagined an accident, she was driving home from her cousin's. It was summer then, and the mayflies were thick on the road. Peggy listened to the tires skid beneath her, imagined losing control for just a minute. Maybe she'd go off-road. Maybe there'd be a dark shadow crossing the road, some jaywalker who picked precisely the wrong moment to cross. She pumped the brakes a little in her daydream. She imagined skidding. She was skidding.

The car thudded off-road, jolting her awake. She really had touched the brakes. What a silly thing to do.

She got out of the car for a minute and looked a long way down the road ahead and behind her. Boy, wouldn't it have been embarrassing if someone had seen her?

It happened again, as the years went by. Usually when she was alone in the car and couldn't stop herself imagining. She gradually trained herself not to act on the fantasies, to just drive like normal.

The winter she was driving home from work, it happened. She imagined the pedestrian, the jolt. How scary it would be. She imagined the hole it left in her windshield. How the man would be left stuck in the glass.

Peggy forced herself to breathe calmly. To see blank glass. Her foot shifted from the brake and depressed the accelerator and she began moving again.

Boy, she really had to keep these daydreams in check.

 

There was hope.

All they had to do was hide that poor fella's body. It had been an accident, and anyway, he'd gone after them when he'd woke up. No one had to know.

There was hope.

Lou was nosy, but all cops were nosy. Maybe he'd hit close to the truth on accident, but the evidence was gone and they had no motive. That's what they always said on TV. You had to have a motive to murder. What reason would they have to kill a mobster? Anyway, the mob wouldn't be interested. They were nobodies.

There was hope.

It would all blow over. She would give the money to Ed and he could have the butcher shop and she could go to Lifespring and everything would work out.

There was hope.

She was actualized. She had taken down the mobster that came to kill Ed, wouldn't he be so pleased that she'd taken care of herself? The Lifespring guru had helped her out, and she hadn't even had to go to the seminar!

There was hope.

The butcher shop was gone but now they were on the run like two lovers in an old movie and it was so dramatic she could hardly breathe. Plus, they had that rude fella in the trunk. He wasn't going to be doing anyone harm anytime soon, now.

There was hope.

It really was like an old movie. The Dodd fella was dead, and she'd stabbed a man with her own scissors. She was actualized, taking control of her own life. She'd saved Ed's life, too. There was nothing she couldn't do.

There was hope.

The cops were there. They would clear up the whole business with the mob and everything would go back to normal.

There was hope.

She hit the cop watching them and they escaped together. It was so romantic. They ran from killers. They ran from the big, bad world.

There was hope.

Ed was bleeding but she would save them both. She would hide them, so the killer would never find them. They would be rescued.

There was hope.

The indian was smoking them out, but they would be rescued, just like in that Ronnie Reagan movie.

There was hope.

Ed wasn't dead. Ed couldn't be dead. Ed wasn't dead. Ed couldn't die. Ed wasn't dead.

There was hope.

There was a jail in California with a view of the bay. Even if she was in hell, she would get a good view.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i really don't have enough for one single fic, plus, just writing these little vignettes depressed me. I love Peggy as a character but just...wow, okay? I headcanon that she's actually so used to seeing things that aren't really there that she didn't even think that she'd actually hit someone until Ed saw. That's also why I think she shrugged off the UFO at the end.


End file.
